Thy Fearful Symmetry - SYOT OPEN
by Sarah Jane Shaw
Summary: In what distant deeps or skies. burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? - Let the 61st annual Hunger Games begin! SYOT OPEN - details in my profile.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi Guys! So, I've been inspired to start a SYOT fic. Now, that doesn't mean that I've abandoned my current HG fic 'Dark Shades of Roses' I'm still very much writing the adventures of my girls so don't panic! I just have so many plot bunnies bouncing around in my head that it's driving me nuts and I figure a good old SYOT fic is a great way to really let loose creatively.

Tribute form is in my profile! Please please please submit, I'm so excited to read about your tributes and you know... throw them into a fight to the death!

I will be using a system of sponsor points, but I'll post more information about that soon. All you need to know for now is that you'll receive 20 points just for submitting your tribute!

Good luck tributes! May the odds be ever in your favour!

... What? Too cheesy?

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**THY FEARFUL SYMMETRY **

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**CHAPTER ONE: PROLOGUE**

'

The paper, torn along the edges, and creased beyond redemption by the incessant caresses of rough hands, lay across my desk.

'

_'Tyger! Tyger! burning bright _

_In the forest of the night, _

_What immortal hand or eye _

_Could frame thy fearful symmetry? _

_In what distant deeps or skies _

_B__urnt the fire of thine eyes? _

_On what wings dare he aspire? _

_What the hand dare seize the fire?_

_And what shoulder, and what art, _

_Could twist the sinews of thy heart? A_

_nd when thy heart began to beat, _

_What dread hand? and what dread feet?_

_What the hammer? what the chain?_

_In what furnace was thy brain? _

_What the anvil? what dread grasp _

_Dare its deadly terrors clasp? _

_When the stars threw down their spears, _

_And watered heaven with their tears, _

_Did he smile his work to see? _

_Did he who made the Lamb make thee? _

_Tyger! Tyger! burning bright _

_In the forests of the night, _

_What immortal hand or eye _

_Dare frame thy fearful_ _symmetry?'_

_'_

The poem, ancient and cryptic, would be my final message to my team of game makers. My final piece of advice. It was in their hands now.

Let the games begin.


	2. District One - Not What You Expected

**A/N: **Wow! You guys were quick! I'm so glad I get to start this story so quickly - I thought I was going to be waiting ages for tributes to be submitted! Don't fear though, there are still LOADS of open SYOT spaces - check out my profile for the deets and how to apply.

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_**NOT WHAT YOU WERE EXPECTING **_

_**DISTRICT ONE **_

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**MARSHALL LEE GORMAN**

Nine days out of ten, it was very bright in district one. The bright light of the morning filtered through the thin fabric of the curtains, such as they were, as if they weren't there at all. Marshall Lee peeked open one electric blue eyes and peered out into the day.

It was reaping day, he remembered almost immediately. Unwilling to face the reality of the morning yet, Marshall Lee considered the curtains. They were a very fine blue fabric, strung up haphazardly across a long wooden stick. The curtains didn't open, but they did the job of keeping out prying eyes well enough. The fabric itself, which was threadbare in places, was plain when it was found but was now adorned with a collage of colourful chalk drawings. Flowers, bees and little girls in coloured dresses all danced across the fabric and Marshall Lee remembered the day that they were drawn. His siblings; Fiona, Preston and Marcy and himself, all gathered on the floor of their tiny living area, laughing and joking, crouched over the fabric with some uh, commandeered, school chalk making the material their own. Most strikingly of all, Marshall noticed, scattered across the linen there were several images of tiny loaves of bread. It was terrible that such small children would draw bread, like it's some magical gift rather than something that was readily available to them. With a pang, Marshall Lee felt a tug in his chest, partially hunger and partially something deeper that pulled him back into reality.

It was reaping day and his sibling would need a good breakfast.

He finds his sisters in the living area, which also served as a kitchen in their little makeshift home. The house lay on the verge of district one, so they would have to be leaving soon if they wanted to make it to the square on time. The house was in fact a tiny three roomed shack that Marshall Lee had built himself. He tried to keep it under the radar. After their mother died, the siblings were alone, and Marshall wasn't exactly an expert on the Peacekeepers rules for building real estate. As such the place might not have been exactly up to code. It was little more than three rooms, each room separated by hanging fabric. A kitchen/living area and two bedrooms, one for the boys and one for the girls. Outside in the yard there was an outhouse. The rooms were sparsely furnished but full of heart. Similar chalk drawings to the ones Marshall Lee has on his curtains ran through the whole house making the entire place look like a happy blackboard. Or that's how he liked to think of it anyway.

Little Marcy, Marshall's youngest sibling at age seven, was standing on a stool, only her body visible from his vantage point at the door, her head buried deep in a high cupboard. As he watched she pulled out a packet of dried ration biscuits and held them victoriously above her head.

"I knew there were some in here!" She exclaimed.

"Well done Marcy!" Says Fiona, reaching up to help her little sister down from the stool. Fiona was older than Marcy, at thirteen years old she was the only one of Marshall's siblings who was also eligible to be reaped today. They all looked alike, the Gorman siblings. Tall, pale skin, ashen hair and their signature bright blue eyes. The girls were dressed in matching pale denim dresses, their finest reaping clothes. Marshall noticed that the dresses were getting a bit short at the hem and made a mental note to sew on another layer of lace to the bottom of the dresses, ensure they could get another couple of years out of them.

After a quick breakfast of the ration biscuits Marshall and his only brother, nine year old Preston, or P-Bubz as Marshall liked to call him, quickly threw on some clothes and the little family headed out together towards the town square. Another year, another reaping. Marhshall Lee wasn't too worried, it's district one so even on the off chance his name did come out of that reaping ball, there was always dozens of hungry careers trampling each other to volunteer.

**JOANNA MORRIS**

Joanna Morris always got up early. Living on a ranch had a habit of setting ones internal alarm clock a little ahead of a usual schedule. At seven o'clock in the morning Joey and her little sister Alexa had already been up for hours; cleaning out chickens, feeding dogs and generally running themselves ragged. The Morris family ranch was a sprawling farm ranch that spread thousands of feet across the base of a mountain. Joanna couldn't love it more, she thought she had just about the best home in all of districts, even better than anywhere in the Capitol she bet. Her fourteen years helping her parents tend the animals and watching her families business thrive had been the best upbringing she could imagine, besides she got to spend every day with her best friend, her quarter horse, Golden Midnight.

"It's a good haul today sis." Said Alexa, the thirteen year old's blonde head bobbed around the corner of the chicken coop, her skinny arms straining to carry a woven basket of fresh eggs.

"Wow!" said Joanna "We'll have a good breakfast this morning! Thanks little hens!" She cooed through the mesh wire of the coop, flashing the little egg machines her best pearly smile.

Alexa laughed at her sister, she'd never understood why Joanna insisted on thanking the animals and talking to the animals and, more often than Joey would like to admit, even singing to the animals.

"Don't forget, it's reaping day," said Alexa "so don't be too long sweeping the coop, we have to 'make a special effort today' after all!" she grinned, quoting their mother. Madeline Morris was very particular when it came to how her daughters appeared, especially on special days.

"Yeah, yeah," said Joey "I'll be quick" Joey wasn't exactly the kind of girl that liked dressing up so having to 'make a special effort' was kind of her nightmare. Joey would like to have just gone to the reaping in her gingham shirt, jeans and riding boots - but that probably wouldn't have be appropriate.

After a hearty and delicious breakfast of omelette and sweet potatoes (another benefit to living on a ranch, fresh food!) Joey went up the stairs to her room. The stairs in the ranch house were beautiful and like everything else in the home, were solid oak with elaborate designs hand carved into the surface.

Joey's room was also beautiful. At least in her eyes. It was large, one of the larger bedrooms in the house, with plush cream carpet - the kind your feet just sink right into. It had a big bay window which faced to the east so Joey's room was always the first to fill up with sunlight in the morning. The room was cluttered with nick-nacks, from riding trophies to carved wooden horses and more than a few stuffed animals. With a grateful smile Joey noticed her mother had laid out an outfit for her on the pony print bed spread. Good, she thought, that makes getting ready just a little bit less painful.

Joey dressed quickly and looked at her reflection in her long oak mirror. Her mother had chosen a simple peach coloured dress with spaghetti straps and woven tan sandals. The dress fell over Joey's thin frame with barely any curves to cling to, creating a pleasant lean effect, and paired with her long, almost white blonde hair and lack of make up, Joey appeared much younger than she actually was. Normally Joey would wear her waist length hair pulled into rough side braids but today she would just brush it through and leave it down. She was making a special effort after all.

"Joanna!" called Madeline, the girls' mother. "There's someone here to see you!"

"Coming!" Joey called back, feeling butterflies start to fly in her stomach. Joey didn't have a lot of friends, due to the amount of time she spend working on the ranch, so there was only one person that could be calling for her.

"Kelly!" yelled Joey, flying down the stairs and into her girlfriends arms. The two had been together for a few months now, it was a young love, still alive with the thrill of getting to know each other, and Joey and was enjoying every moment of it.

"Hi honey." said Kelly, giving her girlfriend a quick peck on the lips. Kelly Sanders was a tall girl, with dark skin and deep hazel eyes. She was broader than Joey and more built around the shoulders and hips. Kelly was normally a jeans and t shirt kind of girl so to see her in her reaping clothes was quite a shock.

"You look strange" said Joey. Kelly was wearing a deep green wrap around dress that Joey was sure she didn't pick herself. Her hair was pulled back and woven into a braided bun and from the looks of things, she was even wearing make up. The only sign of the real Kelly was that this whole outfit was finished, not with dainty sandals or pumps but with a pair of big, worn out leather boots.

"Don't start with me. My mother _dressed _me, _dressed me! _Like I'm five years old! Luckily none of her shoes would fit me though so I had to wear my boots." She grinned, giving Joey a twirl in her mish-mash outfit. If there's one thing that Joey really liked about Kelly, it was that she could laugh at herself. _  
_

"So Joey," Kelly leaned in close, Joey could feel her breath tickling the hair against her face "Do you think we have time to sneak off for a quick ride?" Joey's periwinkle eyes went big in her head. There wasn't really time to go riding, besides they'd just gotten ready! Their mother's would go crazy if they messed up their dresses. But still, the idea of getting out on the horse for twenty minutes before this horror of a day began was incredibly tempting.

"Kelly Morgan Sanders, _you _are a horrible influence." And, with a peck on the cheek, Joey grabbed her lovers hand and pulled her out of the door. "But if my dress gets messed up we're telling my mother it's _your _fault!"

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A/N: So what do you think of the D1 tributes so far? They're certainly not your usual bunch of careers right? Review and let me know what you think!

A note on sponsor points. You will receive 20 points per tribute you submit (max two tributes per person.) At the end of each chapter I will also be posting a 'Super Sponsor Challenge!' it might be a question, it might be scavenger hunt, it might be something even more exciting that I haven't thought of yet! The amount of points per challenge will vary so make sure you check each chapter. You don't have to have a tribute in this fic to gain sponsor points, you can still support your favourite!

THE CATCH: The Super Sponsor Challenge will only be open until the next chapter is posted. So you can't answer chapter one's challenge once chapter two is posted. Well you could, but you wouldn't get any points so why bother? Please answer in review form, but please also leave a comment on the story not just the answer.

**SUPER SPONSOR CHALLENGE ONE! **

Let's start with an easy one. Just a standard Q&A, answer correctly and receive 4 points.

Which district was Seeder from?


	3. District Two - Fight and Flight

**A/N: **Thank you guys so much for your positive feedback so far! I'm really happy I get to write about all these amazing characters you have submitted. Remember this SYOT is still open! Although at this point I am ONLY accepting male careers and bloodbath tributes. Check my profile for the deets!

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_**FIGHT AND FLIGHT**_

_**DISTRICT TWO**_

'

**LEIGH HUA**

One wall of the room was completely mirrored. Leigh Hua, at age six, had planned the renovation to help with her training. Just like in a ballet studio, she felt that being constantly aware of her body positioning could only benefit her training. She could practice martial arts in the comfort of her own bedroom, she could check her stances for weak spots, and also, she could make sure she looked good while doing it. Being attractive was a very important part of being a successful tribute after all.

Leigh was now seventeen years old. In the last eleven years she had gotten a lot of practical use out of her bedroom training mirrors, but today they were to serve a different purpose, potentially they're final purpose. Leigh was preparing for the reaping, for _her _reaping. This was going to be her year. She was going to volunteer. She felt no nerves for today. Thunderbolts of excitement coursed through her body setting her nerves alight with electricity, and she enjoyed the thrill they gave her.

Leigh Hua considered her reflection carefully. A tall girl stood in her mirror, a classic beauty with long heavy black hair and perfect dark eyes. Her skin was ivory white and her lips (with a little help from her friends at District Cosmetics) were ruby red. Blood red. The girl was dressed in a simple knee length black dress, skin tight with panels of mesh along the sides, revealing her torso beneath, sculpted to perfection by years of training. One of the capped sleeves of the dress was sewed closed, hugging the edge of her right shoulder, where her arm should have been. Leigh Hua had lost that arm years earlier, in a training accident, but she believed the abnormality made her more beautiful. It was a sign that she was strong. That she had survived things, and that she would survive things again. The outfit was finished with a pair of pointed patent black shoes with spike heels. The look was polished, the girl was perfection and Leigh Hua was ready. Today she was going to face her destiny.

**STEVEN KRANE**

Worn black combat boots crunched along an ancient gravel road, the early morning light gleaming on the leather as they march the well travelled route to the old airfield. Steven knew it was reaping day and that he would have to be heading to town soon, but that was why, today more than ever, he felt he needed to be there. The old airfield in district two was Steven's favourite place in the world. The old runways were cracked and grown over with weeds and the hangers were long abandoned, owls and rats having moved in where planes should be. The derelict place was like a mausoleum but Steven didn't find it depressing. He found it fascinating and proof that his district had something more to contribute than churning out an endless line of brutal careers and peacekeepers. The airfield was a place of innovation, a place to learn from the past and to think about how to move into a more peaceful tomorrow.

Steven sighed, sitting himself down on a metal box at the verge of the field, just on the edge of the asphalt. His thoughts were running deep today. He needed to stay strong though. Steven had made up his mind last year, after watching yet another twenty-three innocent lives be lost, after witnessing a district over run with deplorable victors and sadistic careers fall so far into corruption Steven was afraid it couldn't be redeemed. Steven had to make a change. Steven had to volunteer.

So focused was Steven on the task ahead of him he didn't even hear the girl approach him from behind.

That probably wasn't a good sign for a tribute to be.

"Hey." A gentle voice called out, Steven didn't even need to turn around to know who the voice belonged to. It was his friend Wilma, more affectionately called "Wingma" by those in their little gang of aviation enthusiasts. There were four of them in their gang; Steven, Wingma, Radar and Wing's little brother, Zippy. The four had been close for a few years now, bonding over their love of exploring, aviation and their mutual distaste for the games. A rare opinion for healthy kids from district two. Steven had not let his friends in on his plans for the reaping today, he knew they would have to try and talk him out of it. But he also knew they would support him, and he would need them. Their support would keep him going in the arena, and he would be relying on them to spread their message if he were to fail.

"Hey Wingma" said Steven with an easy smile "Shouldn't you be heading down to town?"

"Shouldn't you be?" She countered. Wingma was a beautiful young girl. Shoulder length brown hair flew untamed around her tanned, freckled face and the sun danced in her grey-blue eyes. She looked like she was shimmering. Steven's skin was also tanned, but not in same sun kissed way as Wingma's, Steven's skin was olive by birth and he liked the interesting undertones. His eyes were dark and wide set in his head, his black hair was cropped short and his jaw was chiselled, his whole body perfectly defined by years of training alongside the careers he hated so much.

"Good point." He laughed. "I just needed to get away for a while before today."

"See the old place one last time?" She said and Steven's heart stopped in his chest. She couldn't know his plans could she? He'd been so careful. He hadn't breathed a word. But then she laughed, and Steven could breath again.

"Yeah, uh, something like that." He laughed too. Although there was nothing really funny.

"I can't believe it's been a year already." she said, kicking a small pebble across the cracked concrete. "Another year, and still nothing's changed. It makes you sick that people will still do this to each other."

"I know."

"It's the Victors." said Wingma, and Steven could sense she was gearing up for a rant Steven had heard before. "They were normal kids you know? Then suddenly, it's like they forget! Like they can't see any more how much pain this damn thing causes. I mean, everywhere but _especially _here in the career districts!" She was getting into her stride now, the fiery words flowing easily. "Kids as young as twelve throw themselves into a fight to the death, and even the ones that don't, the ones that never go into the arena - their lives are still over! They have to live on as disappointments! It's disgusting! People here are _disappointed _if their children don't get to become murders and corpses." Wing sighs, she had been ranting into the sun, staring off into the distance, reciting the blasphemous anti-capitol things the group had said a thousand times. But then she turned to Steven, and looked him dead in the eyes. Blue vs. Brown. Water vs. Earth.

"The responsibility lies with the Victors." she said softly. "They're the ones that have to power to change this. If they could just stop playing into the shiny-happy version of the games the Capitol wants people the see, if they could see they're betraying their own people, then maybe we could start to change things." Her eyes were pleading. She cared so passionately about their cause, it made Steven's heart ache to listen to her words and know that in just a few short hours he would be putting her words into action. He couldn't help himself, he didn't think, slowly, tenderly but with an urgency that screamed how much he needed this, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers.

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**A/N: **Another chapter done! What do you think of the District Two tributes? Please review and let me know! I love hearing what you guys think of the tributes - good or bad *wink* Personally I love them both! They're pretty different though right? In fact I can't actually think of two more different volunteers ever. I bet the train to the Capitol will the pretty awkward... Also don't forget to follow this fic! You don't want to miss an update!

**SUPER SPONSOR CHALLENGE TWO!**

Congrats to all the people last time who answered correctly, the answer was... District 11! Yay! So remember that Super Sponsor Challenge is OVER you will receive NO points if you answer that question from now on.

Let's keep things easy with another Q&A, but we'll mix it up a bit.

Who plays Raj on the Big Bang Theory?


	4. District Three - The Rebel and The Mecha

**A/N: Hey guys! Hope you're all good! Next up is D3! I'm trying to mix it up a bit with the reapings guys because seeing every single tribute go through exactly the same stuff is likely to get pretty boring pretty quick! So I'm gonna try and move the timeline on a little bit each time. Enjoy!**

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_**THE REBEL AND THE MECHANIST**_

_**DISTRICT THREE**_

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**GRACE LANSING**

Her dress was itchy, but that was the least of her concerns. Grace had a plan for how this whole day was going to go down and she wouldn't let anything ruin it. Grace Lansing had been in the sign in line for what felt like a year, and she had the awful fortune of being stuck behind two of the most annoying girls she'd even encountered. A couple of thirteen year old's who had been talking for a solid twenty minutes about the different shades of watermelon lip gloss. What? Were they joking? This was reaping day, could they really think of nothing better to discuss? People, honestly...

Eventually the queue moved on, Grace had her finger pricked and she was lead forward, like all the other sheep around her, into the pen where she would be held along with the other sixteen year old females of district three. Grace tried to hold back as much as she could, and did her best to stay out of sight of her friends. They weren't a part of her plan and frankly she didn't have the energy to deal with them. Grace was not a girl that stood out in crowds so remaining unnoticed was no real challenge for her, in fact it was an art that she had perfected over the years. A naturally reclusive nature will help you develop those kinds of skills.

On the outside Grace looked like an average sixteen year old, she had long dark hair and serious brown eyes, the kind that saw things even when they were closed. The rest of her features were small and delicate, the bridge of her slightly upturned nose was crowned with an Orion's belt of freckles and her modest chapped lips were pouty with attitude. Today Grace was wearing a structured dress of dark blue fabric, overlaid with delicate red thread in tartan like squares. Her boots were large and chunky with a solid three inch heel and Grace was happy with them. She had lifted them from the house of an older boy the week before at a party, she thought they suited her better than whoever the original owner had been anyway.

It was a short wait before Aquila, the bright eyed, pink haired escort for district three appeared on the stage to announce the start of the reaping.

"Welcome one and all!" She said. The woman spoke in a tight, high pitched chirp that set Grace's nerves on edge.

Aquila went through all the usual motions; she reminded the district of the purpose of the games, played the ancient video narrated by the president, and finally unveiled the two huge glass balls that held in them the fate of so many children. With each moment Grace felt her stomach tighten. This was the moment. She only had one chance. Her nerves prickled her, nagging her to reconsider, but she pushed them aside. This was her moment.

The Capitol woman reached into the left reaping ball and swirled her hand around dramatically. A tiny slip of paper was trapped by her bubblegum talons and Grace felt the district hold their breath.

_"Maisie Collins" _

Cries of anguish ran out though the square. Maisie Collins must be someone well liked. Grace kept her head down. She peered up through heavy lashes to see a small girl with dark hair, who couldn't have been more than 13 years old begin to ascend the rough wooden staircase. The girl looked dazed and lost, like a lamb separated from it's flock and like a lioness stalking her prey, Grace waited for her moment.

One by one, Maisie climbed the steps, the agony of the situation becoming more real as the seconds ticked past. And, as Maisie took the final step on the stairs, her tiny foot caught on the hem of her dress and her feet went from under her. She fell with a smack onto the hard wood of the stage and the girl began to cry. This was the moment. Grace's head snapped up and her hand shot into the air.

"I volunteer!" She yelled. "I volunteer as tribute."

**EDWIN SANDERSON**

Edwin Sanderson was feeling self concious. He didn't like crowds at the best of time. In fact he wasn't really that comfortable around people, period. The streets of district three were filling up with people the closer they got to the square. Like a river growing as it meets the streams, with each side street they passed the crowds swelled. Edwin was starting to feel too hot.

"I think I'm- uh, gonna hang back." muttered Edwin to his companions, his father and step-mother. Edwin's father, a cold man in his early fifties, made no sign that he was even aware Edwin was walking with them, let alone that he had heard him speak. Edwin took that a sign of permission and slowed his gait. His step-mother, a mousy woman at least a foot shorter than the lanky Edwin, stopped and placed a hand awkwardly on his arm.

"Good luck today." She said "Think positive." That was always her advice. Edwin smiled awkwardly and Mrs. Sanderson walked on.

The root cause of Edwin's agoraphobia was not social anxiety- although it would be a lie to say that wasn't a part of it. The truth was, Edwin was self concious. Blessed with a naturally inquisitive and scientific mind Edwin grew up experimenting. He had several makeshift 'labs' throughout his many roomed home and years ago, a catastrophically failed experiment with a makeshift bomb had left Edwin horribly embarrassed, and horribly scarred. The entire left side of the boys body was littered with tight, shiny burn scars, some small, some large. Unfortunately not even his face was spared. Edwin did his best to hide his deformities, he grew his shaggy hair out long and wore it flipped over the left side of his face, he wore long sleeves and pants at all times - even in the summer, which was a whole other hell, and tried to keep his head down in a crowd. However, genetics were not on his side and the more Edwin wanted to hide away, the taller he grew. Incredibly tall and lanky for his age, Edwin stood at least a head taller than all the other boys in his class, a horrible twist of irony (and more proof to dear Ed that the universe was against him) - Edwin would have paid someone to make him a foot shorter if he could.

Eventually the crowds thinned and Edwin found himself slinking at the back of the pack. The sign in line had shrunk by the time he reached it and he slipped into his designated area, with the other sixteen year old's, quietly. Edwin was right at the back, but, his eye line being higher than most, he had no problem seeing. With no one to talk to Ed passed the time by absently fumbling with the random debris that always seemed to lay in his pockets. Screws, bolts, tiny microchips and, if he was lucky, the odd coin were among the items Edwin often found himself with. The fingers of his left hand brushed over shapeless hunks of metal and plastic until finally they made contact with something jagged. Intrigued, Edwin removed the item from his pocket and held it in his hand. There, On the ruined skin of his palm there sat a bird. A tiny mechanical creature no more than an inch high. It was a silly thing, crafted from offcuts of scrap metal, all sharp edges, it's featured scratched on by an unskilled hand - but it had personality, as silly as it sounds, a tiny clockwork heart seemed to beat within it's chest.

The escort was on the stage then, and Edwin placed the bird carefully back in his pocket. Someone's life was about to change.

A girl was called, young and sweet looking, but then another girl volunteered, Edwin didn't recognise the girl but that wasn't saying much. Edwin didn't know many girls. Not that he was bitter about it.

Fine. He was a little bitter.

The volunteer girl was nothing particularly special. Average height, average looks, she certainly didn't look like the type to have a death wish - so why would she volunteer? Was she related to this Maisie Collins? Other wise why would anyone do that?

Aquila reached into the reaping ball again.

It just didn't make any sense.

She grabbed a slip of paper

Did this girl want to die?

"_Edwin Sanderson"_

To go into the games was suicide and no one from the outline districts ever volunteered.

...

...

...

It was the pregnant pause that snapped Edwin out of his own mind.

"Why is everyone looking at me?"

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**A/N: Two more down! Did you like Grace? She's a tough one to read right? What about Ed? I think he's just the cutest. Please do review and let me know, it really really helps me to know what you guys are thinking. Plus it puts some pressure on me to get the next chapter out! Also if you haven't already don't forget to click follow! You wouldn't want to miss an update would you? **

**SUPER SPONSOR CHALLENGE THREE!**

Congrats to all the people last time who answered correctly, the answer was... Kunal Nayyar! Yay! So remember that Super Sponsor Challenge is OVER you will receive NO points if you answer that question from now on.

Lets do a opinion poll this week, all you have to do is tell me if you are a cat person or a dog person. Receive 2 points for a one word answer and 5 if you tell me WHY.

For the record, I'm a cat person.


End file.
